


10 Days at the Hotel MSBY

by Newaged_skulls



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Haunted Hotel, Fluff, Ghosts, Humor, M/M, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Suicide, More funny than romantic, Not scary, Yôkai, no graphic descriptions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:13:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29846874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Newaged_skulls/pseuds/Newaged_skulls
Summary: At first Hotel Inarizaki had been a blessing. However, after 3 years, Atsumu would do anything to leave. When Kita's friend, Meian, needs some extra help for 10 days, he leaps at the opportunity. A new city could be the stepping stone he needs. If only the tenants at Hotel MSBY weren't so... weird.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 5
Kudos: 39





	10 Days at the Hotel MSBY

Since graduating high school, Hotel Inarizaki had been home for Miya Atsumu.

It wasn’t intentional at first. His senpai - Kita - had been running the hotel after his parents stepped down after graduation. He had worked there over countless summers already. The fact that Kita was willing to rent him a cheap room, give him a paycheck, while he tried to make something of a pro-volleyball career happen seemed like winning the lottery. 

He wasn’t expecting to blink and lose three years of his life. 

Strolling down the familiar hallways, twirling a master key around his finger, he weighed whether or not he could afford to make the jump to Tokyo. Suna was there already. They could share a place without killing each other. 

Sliding the keycard into the hotel door, he was greeted with a putrid smell. 

“Ugh,” he groaned. 

It wasn’t a backed-up toilet at least. 

He isn’t entirely sure what it is but as soon as he uses a gloved hand to dispose of the sex toy left behind and seals it in a few different bags, most of the smell dissipates. Technically he could have just had the housekeeping lady take care of it, but he felt bad doing that to Ona. He pops open the window as much as it’ll go and turns up the AC to help with the residual smell. 

Looking around the disheveled room, he can’t help but feel the weight of everything pull his shoulders down. 

He needs to leave this damn hotel. 

  
  
  


None of them have ever proven that Kita is psychic. Hyper observant, caring to a fault, sure. Not psychic, however. 

“My friend, Meian’s, hotel manager unexpectedly went into labor early and ‘er replacement ain’t due to arrive from their vacation till the end of the month,” Kita says as he pours them both tea. “Would ya be willing to go to Osaka for 10 days to help ‘im out?”

“Sure!” Atsumu chirps, trying not to sound too eager. It’s not Tokyo but who cares. He blows on the hot tea before taking a generous sip. “When does he need me there by?”

“Wednesday, although he said ‘e can manage till Friday if ya have other commitments. I know ya normally ‘ave games during the week.”

Had games, Atsumu corrects in his head. He hasn’t told Kita that the league hadn’t started up again after the pandemic as planned, that he was technically a free agent again.

“Wednesday’s fine, we don’t ‘ave any games this month. Everyone’s still wary, ya know?” Atsumu lies.

Kita merely nods his head, politely sipping away at his tea. 

  
  
  


Stepping off the train into Osaka feels like he’s breathing for the first time in years. 

He shifts the duffle bag looped over his shoulder politely as he weaves through the hoard of people. Businessmen are chatting away on their phones. Well-dressed women stepping out of stores. Kids tucked tightly against their parent’s legs as they’re ushered into restaurants and Konbis. The streets even manage to confuse him much to his delight.

“Excuse me,” he asks an older woman sitting outside her shop smoking, “can you tell me where Hotel MSBY is?” 

She takes a deep inhale, curiously looking him up and down with a judgemental gaze. “Go over two blocks, take a right, you’ll see it.” She says, pointing with the cigarette pinched in her fingers.

“Thank you,” he says in his perfected customer service voice. He frowns as soon as he’s passed her, looking down briefly at his clothes. He hasn’t dressed super well admittedly but it’s not like his clothes were bad. He spent most of the day on a train, why was he going to dress super nice? 

When he caught sight of hotel MSBY for the first time he could help but stand and gawk.

It was a tall building, nestled in the heart of Osaka, with bright gold lettering against a modern black sign. Painters were rappelling down the side of the building, painting as they hung precariously in the air. It was far more luxurious than the little mom-and-pop hotel that he ran with Kita. 

Maybe he  _ was _ underdressed for this.

As he stepped through the glass doors, it only became more luxurious. The wooden floors didn’t creak under his steps, the ornate rugs laying flat over top. It smelled of new paint and lemon cleaning products. There were lush, fresh plants scattered across the reception area. He had definitely stepped into some magazine set accidentally.

“Ah, you must be Miya-san!” The tall man behind the concierge desk says. 

“I am! Pleasure to meet you…?”

“Meian’s fine,” He replies. Atsumu can help but stiffen a little, offering a quick bow to his temporary boss. 

“How was the trip?” 

“It was great!” 

“Good, good,” Meian rummages through something behind the desk, pulling out two sets of metal keys. “Lemme show you to where you’ll be staying.” 

Atsumu follows him deeper into the hotel. The wood floor carries them soundlessly to the elevators. However, instead of more modern elevators, they walk into a birdcage elevator that protests their weight.

A few hours ago, Atusmu would have sworn up and down he had never been afraid of an elevator. As the elevator jerks to life, Atsumu is suddenly very afraid of them. He grips the thin railing tightly. He knows intellectually it wouldn’t save him if the elevator truly sent them plunging to their deaths but it grounds him enough to dampen the thought. 

“We’re a bit of a weird hotel,” Meian starts, “The first floor is reception. Two through five are for monthly tenants and are considered apartments by the city, five through 14 are for hotel guests. 15 is where the storage goes.” 

“You ‘ave tenants?” 

“Yup! My grandparents agreed to it when they first got the place and trying to change it has been difficult. A lot of them have been here a while so they won’t bother you unless they need something.”

The elevator jerks to a sudden stop at floor four, the cage-rattling open. He leaps out of the elevator with as much grace as one can while fleeing a metal death trap. Meian just gives him a knowing chuckle.

“We do have stairs all the way up to the roof,” he says, motioning to a labeled door on their left. Atsumu sends off a small prayer for those before getting his first real look at the inside of the hotel.

He looks back to the elevator, looking then to Meian who's strolling down the hallway. 

Has he secretly been teleported into an alternate reality? 

All of the nice finishes are gone. The red carpet is vastly different, peppered with stains and curling up in some of the corners. The paint has noticeable patches from where things have been painted over through the years. Nothing is quite filthy but somehow doesn’t feel truly clean, like there’s a layer of dust just permanently settled over everything. There’s a noticeable odor he can’t place as if the entire floor had been left to stale in the sun. 

He recalls the painters hanging off the side of the building. It’s probably harder to renovate these floors with active tenants living on them he rationalizes. Quickly he catches up to Meian, clutching his bag tighter. The doors are a rich brown compared to the faded gold numbers barely hanging onto their nails. Most of the doors are the same although some are more dented than others.

There are claw marks on that door. He gulps.

Meian ignores all of it, strolling leisurely to room 13 which is nestled against the exit to the fire escape. “The alarm on this door’s busted so you’re welcome to use it as well if you’re feeling brave,” Meian says, fitting the key into the door. The lock groans as it opens but it takes a nudge with his shoulder to fully yield.

He steps back, clearing the doorway for Atsumu.

It’s a clean room at least but just as aged as the rest of the hotel. Dust particles float through the sunrays. It’s fresher than the hallway, that lemon cleaning product still fragrant. The sheets are wrinkled like they’re fresh from a package. There’s only a bed, desk, wardrobe, and small bathroom - not even a closet for his things. 

“I wasn’t sure what you’d need linen wise so feel free to take what you need,” Meian says from the doorway. “WIFI Password and my number are on the desk for you as well.”

“Awesome, thank you!” He gives Meian his best smile. It seems to do the trick, bringing a smile to Meian’s face as well. He pushes off the doorframe, tossing Atsumu’s copy of the key to him. 

“You’ll start tomorrow at 6, so take the night to relax and get settled. We don’t have a uniform or anything so just look presentable.” 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Atsumu replies. Meian waves as he walks back down the hallway towards the terrifying elevator. Atsumu shuts the door, turning to look back at his room.

It’s 10 days. 

He can make it 10 days. 

There aren’t bugs. There isn’t mold. So far there are no weird neighbors. It’s just an old building in the process of being updated. 

That does little to shake the uneasy feeling in his gut as he unpacks. 

  
  
  


He pats himself down the next morning as he mentally prepares for his first day. Keys, wallet, phone, check, check, check. He pulls the door closed, hinges complaining as he makes sure it’s tightly shut. 

“Hey!” 

Atsumu screams, fighting the urge to just swing as he leaps back. A man with multicolored hair just laughs brightly at him. “I never get tired of doing that,” he says to himself. He runs his hand through his hair, eyes sharpening on Atsumu. 

Atsumu feels hunted.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Miya Atsumu, I’m working ‘ere for a bit to help out Meian-san.” 

“Atsumu, Atsumu, Atsumu,” the man repeats lips pursing contemplatively. His face brightens again. “Tsum-tsum! I like that better. I’m Bokuto!” He points to himself with his thumb.

“Hi,” Atsumu replies weakly, standing up a bit straighter. “Do ya… work ‘ere?” 

“No, no,” - Atsumu fights back a sigh of relief - “I live here!” He points to the door across the hall, the 2 missing from what should be 12. There’s a fist-sized dent in the drywall right next to the doorknob. 

“Ah, well, let me know if ya need anything while I’m ‘ere,” Atsumu offers politely, gingerly trying to move past him.

“We should get dinner tonight!” Bokuto says, intercepting him with a towering lean. “Akaashi knows the best ramen place nearby!”

“Sure, that’d be great.”

That seems to be enough to appease Bokuto who finally lets him pass, going towards his room instead. Atsumu tries to keep an even, unsuspicious pace towards the stairwell, ears stretching for the sound of a lock clicking. There isn’t one. 

When he finally reaches the stairwell, he dares to look back and Bokuto is nowhere to be seen. Huh, maybe their door isn’t as noisy as his. He heads into the stairwell, the metal steps ringing under his feet. 

He’s got 8 hours to find a way out of that dinner. 

  
  
  


Meian spends most of the morning showing him around the Hotel. He meets a few more of the tenants and they’re unfortunately all a bit… weird. None of them are outright aggressive - hell Hinata was even friendlier than Bokuto - but he can’t shake the uncomfortable feeling that’s curled comfortably in his brain. Something that says he isn’t welcome here.

“I do need you to do a few night shifts while you’re here. I didn’t give you the full moon days don’t worry,” Meian laughs. 

“That’s fine.” It’s absolutely 100% not fine but he’s not going to complain. Not to Meian at least, most definitely Osamu. 

He spent most of the night looking into the volleyball leagues in Osaka while munching on takeout from the Konbi. The night shifts will give him some daytime to go try and make an opportunity happen. Wasting this trip being scared of an old building and its weird tenants isn’t an option. 

He sucks in a deep breath as Meian leaves him to his own devices at the desk, manager key officially exchanged. 

He can do this. 

  
  
  


He can’t do this. 

Not because the Hotel is creepy - which it is - but because the hotel is slower than honey in winter. 

He checks in one touristy couple from the states and that’s it. He usually isn’t one to play with his phone at work but today it’s his only lifeline to survive. The Hotel’s staff doesn’t even bat an eye at him, just going about their tasks as if nothing had changed at all. He’s not quite at the point of banging his head against the desk just to feel something but it’s a close call.

“Miya-san?” 

He perks up from his chair, one of the older housekeepers politely standing off to the side of the desk.

“Yes?”

“Would you mind going to floor 15 and bringing down a few containers of floor cleaner? They’re quite heavy and we’re almost out.”

“I definitely can do that! What do they look like?”

She shows him the container nestled into their first-floor storage closet before sending him on his way with the special key. He rolls it in his hands as he climbs all 15 flights of stairs, ignoring how his breath shortens and his thighs ache. Fuck stairs. 

It takes him plenty of time to do, hopefully, enough time to fully evade Bokuto and whoever Akaashi is. 

While stepping from the elevator into the rest of the hotel had been a bit of a shock, stepping from the stairwell onto floor 15 was downright staggering. Most of the floor had been blown out, scraps of drywall littering the floor between the old beams. There were storage boxes everywhere, some filled and some empty. 

The acrid smell of bleach hits him, pulling a sour expression on his face. Someone must have spilled a bottle or something. 

Only one room had been left intact, a pristine number 15 on the door. It honestly looked like it was in better condition than his door. He ran his hand over it, evaluating. Why had it been left here like this? 

“This place is so weird,” he mumbles to himself. 

It takes him a decent amount of time and sorting to find the right containers, his tie being sacrificed in the name of comfort. It dangles in a messy loop from his pocket as he kneels to grasp the containers. Four should be plenty, he thinks to himself as he adjusts his hands around the handles. 

The tie suddenly yanked from his pocket.

Whipping around, he screams for the second time that day. However, unlike Bokuto’s amused face, the stranger just levels him a bored stare.

Gripping the fabric above his heart as it kicks feverishly he honestly wonders if he’ll die of a heart attack out of fear. Can that happen? It sounds like something that can happen. 

“Does Meian-san let you work looking like that?” The stranger says, mask shifting as he talks.

Atsumu glares at him. “He specifically said to look presentable, not formal.” He rises. Damn it, why is he suddenly so short compared to everyone? “And I'm getting ready to lug these down 15 flights of stairs, sorry I wanna breathe.”

“Presentable.” The stranger repeats, looking at him with a sanctimonious drag of his eyes. He all but tosses the tie back at Atsumu. The stranger just shakes his head, turning sharply on his heels towards the lone-standing room. Petulantly, he makes an annoyed face to the stranger’s back.

“The elevator hasn’t killed anyone.” 

He opens the door and slams it shut behind him.

He shoves it back into his pocket before grabbing the containers. He resolutely does not go towards the elevator. It may have not killed anyone but there’s nothing like the present. His legs are burning by the time he makes it to the first floor, the sun falling beneath the tall buildings. 

He’s locking up the storage closet when the housekeeper - Sayume - appears. What is with people and sudden appearances at this hotel, Atsumu wonders with a sigh as he drops the key in her outstretched hand. 

“Hey, question for ya,” he asks, “who lives on floor 15?” 

“His name’s Sakusa. He’s been here about as long as Bokuto-san I think.” She pauses, “He’s a dick.”

Atsumu laughs a bit, tension falling from his shoulders. “Definitely.”

Then it hits him. “Is that why you sent me up there?”

“Have a good night, Miya-san!” She says, waving him off. “Thank you again!”

  
  
  


In between naps to prepare for his long night, Atsumu got quite a lot done. He introduced himself to two team managers in the city with positive feedback. Managed to avoid running into Bokuto again. He looked at a few apartments that were within his budget and they weren’t… horrific. Maybe Meian would cut a deal with him as Kita did? Could he stomach living in that hotel?

Wandering around Osaka during the day though, he realizes how misleading Hotel MSBY kind of is. They’re not in a nice part of town although it’s not the worst. Its location is nice for travelers but most of the locals seem to give it a wide berth. Most of them don’t even walk on the same side of the street, preferring to cross and cluster on the other side. 

There is some construction equipment in their way though so that’s probably it.

Living here wouldn’t be the worst, he thinks as he prepares for work. The water’s warm, the bed is comfy enough. There aren’t bugs, which is always a good thing. So far it’s pretty quiet at night as well save for the groan of the elevator and occasional footsteps. Even at Kita’s hotel there was usually some noise - chatty guests, music from radios, kids running down the hallway. He could do it.

He doesn’t mention it when he trades off with Meian for the night.

He blames the jitters on the potent cup of coffee he made in the breakroom. It’s just an old building with weird people, he tells himself for the millionth time. For the first time, he wishes Osamu was here with him. Granted, he would just mock Atsumu relentlessly for being scared but at least there’d be someone else to confirm that this place just...  _ feels _ weird. 

The night stays about as interesting as the day. The American couple drunkenly stumbles towards their room at about 9 pm, but after that nothing else happens. He spends most of the shift playing games on his phone.

“Miya-san!” Hinata calls brightly - so far the only person in the hotel who routinely announces himself. 

“Hi, Hinata-san,” Atsumu greets politely, “How can I ‘elp ya?”

“Ah, I don’t need help. I just figured you were bored so I brought these!” He shoves a small bag of cookies towards Atsumu. “Inunaki made them and there were extras.” 

“Oh, thank you!” He takes the cookies, vaguely noticing how they look like dog treats, before tasting one. They melt deliciously on his tongue. Amond with just the faintest hint of chocolate filling his mouth.“These are amazing.”

Hinata smiles at him brightly. He munches on another cookie before asking, “Which one is Inunaki? ‘e’s a tenant right?”

Nodding, Hinata points down. “He lives in the basement.” 

First, Atsumu is surprised they even have a basement as Meian hadn’t mentioned that. Second, why would anyone willingly live in the basement? Thirdly, he was pretty confident it was normal to think that that was weird. 

“The Basement?” Atsumu repeats skeptically. Hinata nods again. He presses his hands flat on the desk, popping up to sit on top of it.

“Sakusa and Inunaki used to live on floor 4 with the rest of us but they didn't get along so Meian moved Sakusa up to floor 15 and Inunaki moved into the basement. So it’s just me, Bokuto, Akaashi, and Oliver on floor 4 now. Oh and you, while you’re here.” 

“That… don’t shock me,” Atsumu says, taking in the information. So despite the 13 rooms, only about 5 were occupied? That’s interesting. So Meian probably wouldn’t complain if he did want to stay. “Sakusa’s a dick so I don’t blame Inunaki for getting tired of ‘im.”

Hinata is suddenly close, in his space enough that Atsumu can practically see his pores. “You’ve seen Sakusa?” he demands. 

“Yeah?” Atsumu says, leaning back to reclaim some of his bubble. “I went up there yesterday to get some cleaning supplies and ‘e ‘bout scared me half to death.” 

Hinata doesn’t say anything for a long moment, brown eyes trained on Atsumu. It’s not as vicious as Bokuto’s but he still can’t help but feel a bit hunted under that gaze. He blinks before leaning back, returning to his normal personality like a switch had been flipped.

“He never says hi to strangers, so you must be lucky!” 

Yeah, lucky, Atsumu thinks with a frown. He rubs at his eyes, glancing at the clock. He’s not even halfway through his shift. Leaning back in his chair to stare at the ceiling, he asks, “Do ya like living ‘ere?” 

“Yeah!” Hinata replies eagerly. “It’s a lot of fun. We do movie nights together sometimes, there’s lots of good food nearby. Meian doesn’t complain if we get a little rowdy some nights.” He laughs a bit before falling quiet.

Hair wilting, he adds, “But I do miss home sometimes.”

“Don’t ya go visit?” 

“I can’t.” Hinata turns giving him a smile that only looks painful. It falls after a second, his face suddenly going serious. “Are you planning on staying, Miya-san?” 

“I don’t know, just weighing options right now.”

Hinata nods a bit. “Well, if you wanna talk about it, I’m always happy to listen!”

He has his mouth open to reply when the air suddenly tastes sour in his mouth. The already quiet hotel somehow even manages to get quieter. He wants to run. There’s something wrong. The feeling is screaming through his veins. He blinks, Hinata is already down the hall to the stairs, waving. 

“Enjoy the cookies Miya-san!” He calls before disappearing. Atsumu belatedly realizes that the door didn’t move, nothing was shutting behind Hinata. He must have just not seen it. He swallows thickly. Turning to look at his desk, he pops another cookie in his mouth, the task settling his mind enough to think.

The sour smell is gone. There’s nothing weird on the cameras. Everyone’s still asleep as far as he can tell. It was just a trick of the mind, he tells himself. He’s just tired. Tired and bored so his brain is just inventing things.

Looking down the hallway though, he can’t help but feel that it’s somehow… darker. Like the lights have a misty coat over them. 

He finds every reason to leave the desk as little as possible until Meian relieves him in the morning. Just to be safe. 

  
  


After some sleep, a few more errands, and some more sleep, Atsumu manages to convince himself that the hotel is fine. It’s just cheap and old. The tenants may be weird but they’re nice. Bokuto and Akaashi are kind enough to leave him a bowl of takeout Ramen outside his door after his night shift. They’re nicer than the tourists who left the room in absolute disarray after grumpily checking out. 

Two uneventful days at the hotel reaffirm that it was all just in his head. He manages to work up enough nerve to ask Meian about a more permanent position here which goes over well. He’s settling in quickly into the space, the odd smells and groans of the building no longer as sharp in his mind.

“Miya-san,” Sayume sings, dangling the key. He jokingly rolls his eyes at her, bringing out a cute laugh as she tosses him the key.

“Three of these would be plenty,” she says, showing him the bottle. 

“Will do!” He replies, making his trek up the flights of stairs. His thighs scream less than they did the first time he did this but he’s still winded as he steps onto floor 15. He wanders around idly, catching his breath as he looks for the right boxes. As he goes he starts collecting the empty cardboard, breaking them down, and tossing them into a shopping car he found in the corner. Maybe Meian would be willing to get some cheap shelves. Organize this chaos a bit. 

After a solid hour of cleaning up, light reorganizing, and a lot of searching, Atsumu cannot find the cleaning solution at all. 

“Huh,” he says to himself, placing his hands on his hips, looking around. Where could they be? He glances briefly at Sakusa’s door. Would he know? He’s lived up here for a while - that's the impression he gets at least - he probably has seen more than a few cleaning people struggle. Biting his lip, he goes through the floor once more before working up enough courage.

Gently he raps on the door. Stepping back, there’s nothing but silence for what feels like an eternity. 

“Hey, Sakusa! It’s Miya, ya got a sec?” He asks, giving the door another rap. It’s silent until suddenly the door creeps open, a sliver of Sakusa peeking through.

“What?” he asks.

“Do ya know where the germicidal cleaner is? I can’t find it.” 

Sakusa just stares for a moment before the door shuts and then more fully swings open. Atsumu steps back to give him space, Sakusa stalking out of his room towards the far end of the hallway. He stops suddenly. 

“Were you cleaning up here?” He asks, looking back at Atsumu.

“More like just getting the empty boxes out of the way, but yeah.” 

Sakusa stares at him for another beat, a contemplative huff leaving his lips. It’s then Atsumu realizes that he isn’t wearing his mask at all. He’s… rather handsome Atsumu realizes with a sudden rush of heat to his face. Focus, focus, he chants to himself, trying to keep up with him. 

He stops by a particular cluster of boxes by one of the vents, pointing to it. 

“They’re temperature sensitive so they are kept by the AC,” he explains, “there’s 3 per box.” 

“Awesome! Thank ya.” 

  
“No problem.” 

Atsumu grabs one of the boxes, finding it to be quite light. Sakusa watches him for a second more before stalking back towards his room. The door is quiet behind him but Atsumu at least sees the door close with his own eyes this time. 

He stops before the birdcage elevator. This box is light, it almost feels like a waste. 

Carefully he climbs into the elevator. The metal groans but holds. He presses the button and it sinks smoothly down the hotel. Triumphantly, he smiles.

Atsumu 1, Elevator 0. 

  
  


“You’re settling in quickly,” Meian jokes as Bokuto and Hinata wave to Atsumu as they pass. Atsumu rolls his shoulder, unpacking his bag on Konbi snacks for the night.

“It’s pretty easy too. This place is mellow. Even Sakusa ain’t that bad.” 

Meian’s eyebrow quirks at that. “You’ve met Sakusa?”

“Yeah, a few times now when I go up to get cleaning supplies for Sayume.” Atsumu settles into the chair. “Why does everyone ask that?”

Meian scratches the back of his neck nervously. “Ah well… Sakusa… doesn’t like people. He usually just stays up in his room. It’s rare for him to… come out.” 

Atsumu’s eyes narrow. That’s an odd reaction, he thinks to himself. Meian just ignores his suspicious stare. 

“Have a good night, call if you need me!” he says, rapping the desk four times quickly before all but sprinting out the door. He said he had a family dinner to get to tonight so Atsumu doesn’t pay it any mind.

Instead, he loads up his laptop, prepared with his row of movies for the night. They don’t have any guests in the hotel today, just the tenants, so he prepared for the most painfully boring experience he could imagine. 

  
  
  


After a few hours, his eyes begin to glaze over in exhaustion. It takes him 3 or 4 blinks to realize Sakusa is standing by his desk. He’s jolted to awakeness though when the thought finally settles in his head. “Uh, hi,” he says, trying to play off the awkwardness. “Did ya need something?” 

He’s wearing his mask again, curled tightly into his hoodie. Sakusa keeps looking around the lobby nervously.

“There’s a spider in my room,” he says.

“So kill it?” 

If looks could kill, then the one that Sakusa gives him absolutely would have done the trick. He says nothing however to enlighten Atsumu about what he wants to be done in the situation. Finally, the dots connect.

  
“Alright ya big baby,” he teases, grabbing a fly swatter from one of the drawers, “show me where it is.” 

They take the elevator up to the 15th floor. Sakusa’s door is already wide open. He steps inside first, greedily looking at the room. It’s clean, well maintained like his room but painfully bare. There’s not a spec of color except for a worn green and yellow hoodie draped over the chair. However, it does make it easy to find the spider chilling on the wall. It’s not even that big.

With a resounding smack, the spider is dead, it remains clinging to the flyswatter. He sees some wipes on the desk. Snagging one without permission he cleans off the wall and then then the mesh. 

“There ya go.” 

He tosses the wipe into the trash by the bathroom. Sakusa is awkwardly standing by the door although he’s unfurled himself a touch. “Thank you,” he grumbles, eyeing the room cautiously. 

“Little ones like that don’t kill people,” Atsumu jokes, going to give him a friendly punch to the arm, proud of his little joke. 

His hand just goes into Sakusa’s arm. 

His hand is in Sakusa’s arm.

Sakusa isn’t solid. 

Oh. 

  
  
  


Why is he on the ground? 

He groans, nursing the bump on the back of his head as he sits upright. 

“Oh! Tsum-tsum woke up you guys!” He hears Bokuto yell - his voice bouncing painfully in the empty space. 

Hinata is suddenly in his field of vision, Sakusa and a blonde man off to the side. “How are you feeling?” 

“Head hurts like a bitch, but fine otherwise.” He replies, letting his hand drop to his lap. He tries to recall how he ended up on the floor in the first place but draws blanks. “Did I faint?” 

“Yes,” Sakusa says. 

“Why?” He mumbles mostly to himself, looking around the space. 

“You should see a doctor in the morning,” Hinata starts.

“Yeah, concussions are no joke!” Bokuto interjects with a solid nod. 

“Do you think you have one?” 

“He doesn’t have a concussion,” Sakusa says. 

“He hit the ground pretty hard though, even I heard it,” The blonde one - Inunaki most likely now that Atsumu thinks about it - adds.

“He’s fine.” 

While he listens to them talk, he starts to remember. His hand went through Sakusa. His hand still feels cold now that he thinks about it. He doesn’t know what possesses him to do it but he reaches out to touch Hinata, his hand just sliding through his shoulder. 

They all freeze. 

“Yer ghosts,” Atsumu says way more calmly than he feels. 

They don't respond. Or maybe they do, he’s not entirely sure, for he faints for the second time that night.

  
  
  


When he wakes up again, he’s thankfully not on the hard floor, but an old couch instead. He groans as he sits up. His head is throbbing. They’re in Meian’s office, sunshine peeking through the window.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” Meian gently asks.

“My head kills, do ya ‘ave ibuprofen?”

He rubs at the tender lump on his head as Meian grabs some water and medication. He pops the pills in his mouth, swallowing them with a small gulp of water. The first sip makes him thirstier, the whole glass following suit. The hazy memories of last night come back to him.

The tenants are ghosts. Or at least most of them are. Are there any real ones? He hasn’t seen Akaashi or Oliver so maybe they are. Although the fact he hasn’t seen them thus far into his stay probably means they aren’t.

“So… uh.” he starts, unsure of what to say. Meian chuckles a bit, pulling a chair closer to the couch.

“They told me you finally realized it.” Meian starts. “That they’re ghosts?” 

“Yeah…” Atsumu looks at the empty glass in his hands, rolling in his hands unsurely. 

“This place used to be called Hotel Inunaki, Shion’s family ran it. It’s… always just had bad luck. Something about this place is just tainted. Most people don’t notice it weirdly enough.”

Atsumu thinks of that uneasy feeling he had when he first arrived, how it just coiled inside him and refused to leave. The nerves he had on the first night shift. The weird smells that would just waft into his nose. 

“How?” 

“No Idea,” Meian laughs. “There was a big fire about… 80 years ago. That’s when Shion died, his whole family did. My grandparents bought it then, fixed it up and it’s now mine, spirits and all.” 

Atsumu processes that. He can’t decide if being passed down a haunted hotel is a “fuck you” type of gesture or not. Meian has a good sense of design though from what he’s seen of the renovations so maybe it’s a blessing in disguise. “What ‘bout the others?” He asks.

“Hinata is the most recent, he died a few years ago. A car lost control and crashed into the lobby killing him. Then Oliver was before that, he died of a sudden blood clot. Adriah died of a concussion when my parents were still running the place. Bokuto, Akaashi, and Sakusa were part of a suicide pact when my grandparents were running things. A lot of other people have passed over the years as well but those are the only ghosts so far.” 

That’s… a lot of information. He isn’t sure how to feel about all of it. He’d be pissed as hell in most of their shoes - in a hotel only to die of some weird unpredictable circumstance? A suicide pact though… he doesn’t know how to feel. Should he feel anything? It's not like he knows them all that well. 

Meian reassuringly grips his shoulder. “You have today off so go do what you need to do. I can make it the next few weeks if you want to leave. You’ve been a big help already.” 

He rises from the chair, placing it back in its original spot. Atsumu rises too, slowly as to not upset the throbbing in his head. “I’ll let you know,” he says as he makes his way to the door. He makes it back to his room without running into any of them. He can feel them though, their curious eyes on him just until his door clicks shut behind them. 

At least he’s safe here. 

  
  
  


A shower, a nap, and some food do little to ease the ball of feelings inside him as the day goes on. He makes the one phone call he needs to, leaving a voicemail when there’s no answer. He debates on just exploring Osaka more but his feet carry him up to floor 15 instead. 

Standing outside the door, he doesn’t even have to knock for Sakusa to open it. Whatever his face is doing must convey enough for Sakusa simply rolls his eyes and gestures for Atsumu to enter. He does, awkwardly standing in the room before going to sit on the edge of the bed, the frame creaking. 

“You’ve talked with Meian,” Sakusa says, more to confirm facts than anything. Atsumu nods. 

“Um…” he starts, nervously wringing his fingers. “Can I ask why?” 

Sakusa isn’t wearing a mask again so Atsumu can see the way his mouth tilts down, but it’s not quite annoyed. He sighs coming to sit beside Atsumu on the bed silently. 

“During the war, things were… really scary. People were calling it the end of the world. There weren’t enough supplies already due to all the trade issues, the bombings would destroy even more. Everyone our age was getting issued military orders left and right. We just… didn’t have a lot of hope. It was die here or die over there so we chose here.”

War… It takes a minute for that to click in Atsumu’s head. World War II was about 80 years ago wasn’t it. 

  
“Wow, yer old.” 

Yup, Sakusa is wishing he could just blow his head off, Atsumu thinks with a laugh. 

“In all seriousness though, I woulda too in yer shoes. How come ya guys are stuck here though? Don’t people move on?”

“We think it has something to do with the Jackal but others have died and moved on, so it’s something else most likely.”

“Jackal?” 

Sakusa sighs at the burden. “It’s in the basement. When Meian says this place is tainted, that’s what he’s talking about. It’s a Yokai of some kind.”

“That’s… huh.” 

So the tenants are ghosts and there’s a demon in the basement. That’s cool. Totally not weird at this point. 

  
  
  


After being forcefully evicted from Sakusa’s room, Atsumu makes his way to the nearby Konbi. He knows he needs food but he’s honestly not all the hungry. It's a lot of information to take in. Can you exorcise yokai? He has no idea. He hadn’t even believed in ghosts really until his hand started randomly going through people.

How many times had he seen a ghost and not realized it? Has he always been able to see them or is this a new thing? He has the sudden urge to just start touching everyone he passed to see if they were real or not. He didn’t give in to the impulse but he finds himself staring more at strangers than he normally does.

Do ghosts eat? How did Bokuto and Akaashi get that ramen? Was that even real or did he just have a very vivid dream about all of that? 

He slaps his cheeks hard in the middle of the store, startling the woman next to him. He isn’t crazy. He’s a normal dude in a weird circumstance but he isn’t crazy. Ghosts can probably use phones or something weird like that. 

Or they stole it. 

That’d be at least kinda funny. 

He gets a collection of snacks and drinks from the store to tie him over through the night into tomorrow. He has another night shift again but he’s not nervous about it. There’s something freeing in knowing that his gut was somewhat right about the hotel. 

On his way home, his phone rings, one of the manager’s name flashing across the top of his screen. 

  
“Hello,” Atsumu says, trying not to sound too eager.

“Hey! Would you be able to do a tryout tomorrow at 10?”

“Yeah, sure! Absolutely.”

“Awesome, just bring your most recent physical with you. See you then!” 

“Will do, thank you.”

The line goes dead, joy welling up inside him. A D1 team invited him to tryouts. He could cry. Instead, he runs back to the hotel and sets about preparing. There’s more ramen in front of his door with a silly doodle from Hinata on the napkin. 

“Thanks, guys!” he calls to the hallway, knowing he’ll hear them. It’s real, he thinks as he picks it up, the plastic warm in his hands. He’s not crazy. 

  
  
  


The tryout goes better than Atsumu could have hoped for. The players are some of the best he’s had the pleasure of playing with and he fits in with them like a missing piece. It’s easy, effortless. The most fun he’s had playing in years. 

The foreign coach, Mr. Foster, is pleased. 

“We’ll email the offer here this afternoon,” the manager explains. “Read it thoroughly, make sure you're happy with everything, and let us know what you want to do.” 

“I will, thank you!” Atsumu says.

Leaving the stadium, he is practically floating. He got an offer. He has some other option than going back home in 3 days. 

He thinks of Kita and Osamu. He thinks of the summer festivals and the weird foreigners. He thinks of the “family dinners” at his brother’s restaurant with their old classmates. He thinks of his mom who doesn’t know he’s even put out for offers out here. 

Does he want to leave all of that behind? 

  
  
  


The ghost group - as he’s dubbed them - seems to pick up on his conflicted feelings. Hinata and Inumaki bring him more cookies an hour into his shift. Bokuto bullies him lovingly into watching some animated film he heard a guest talking about, dragging Akaashi into the affair. He makes it to the dead hours of the night without having to think too much about the choice he has to make.

He’s relaxing at the desk when suddenly one of the security cameras goes dead on floor 13. He sits up a bit, waiting for it to come back on, but it doesn’t. The guest phone rings suddenly.

“Hello?”

“Hi, did the hotel lose power or something? We’re on floor 13 and everything’s dark.” 

“It’s probably the fuse, I’ll come up and get that fixed for you guys.” 

He grabs a small tool bag from underneath the desk, legs creaking as he stands. Man is he sore, he thinks as he gingerly walks towards the elevator. It groans like it always does before gently gliding up like it always does. 

When he steps out of the elevator though, he steps into nothing by blackness. It’s dark, even by his standards, as he blinks trying to adjust his eyes. The camera is probably still working, just unable to see anything in this light. He turns on his cell phone flashlight, aiming it down the hallway. 

There’s nothing there but the date features in total darkness are way creepier.

He has half a mind to yell for one of the ghosts. One of them being here would make it less creepy. He decides not to though because the last thing he needs is a Yelp review talking about the crazy hotel manager. 

He walks along the hall until he finds the circuit breaker for the upper floors. He pops the lid off, using the phone to inspect the fuses. Sure enough, two of them for floor 13 are tripped. He flicks them off, waits a minute, and flicks them on. Light immediately fills the hallway, his eyes shutting quickly to avoid the sting. 

When he opens them blearily, there’s a dog in the hallway. 

No, not a dog, he thinks with a gulp as it sinks on its legs, slowly moving towards him. 

A Jackal. 

He runs towards the fire escape at the end of the hall. He hears the thud of running against the carpet as he shoulders the door open with a bang. He goes up, not trusting himself to look down or back. The wind’s howling in his ears, chill creeping in. He grabs onto the metal ladder, hauling himself up. Teeth graze his ankle as he pulls himself quickly to the next floor. 

It’s locked - stupid stupid - but the rusted metal gives way readily to a hard yank. He throws it open, diving into the sparse floor 15. 

“Sakusa!” He yells as he stumbles forward. He hits the ground, cardboard sliding out from underneath his feet. He never actually got around to throwing out all the cardboard boxes he broke down. 

He - in a potentially dying moment - completely agrees with his twin for the first time that he, Miya Atsumu, is absolutely an idiot. 

He turns onto his back, looking at the black jackal’s mean face. Its eyes are trained on him, teeth bright and sharp as it bares its fangs. A rumbling growl is all he can hear over his heartbeat. 

Can cardboard hurt a yokai? No, that’s a dumb idea too.

He squirms back just in time for Sakusa to appear, flying through the air to grab the Yokai by its neck. It howls - deafeningly loud in the small space. He curls up instinctively against the sound. It stops suddenly.

Looking around cautiously, they’re both gone. 

_ It lives in the basement _ .

Quickly he takes the elevator to floor 13, grabbing his phone and tool bag. He rummages through the tool bag as the elevator sinks towards the basement. There’s an old iron hammer buried in the bottle of the bag, he weighs it in his hand before settling it on his weapon of choice. He doubts it would hurt the Yokai, but he feels less dumb carrying it than he would going in empty-handed.

As the elevator comes to a stop, he waits, ears straining for any sort of noise. There’s nothing but the usual creaks of the building. Cautiously he steps out of the elevator. It’s dark, small beams of lights coming in from the street through the high windows. That weird sour smell is pungent here. He yanks his shirt over his nose to help with the smell. 

There’s little down here he notices as he carefully steps through, ducking behind a tall beam that supports the building.

He peeks around the corner of the beam, seeing nothing. Where did they go?

“What are you doing?”

He swings the hammer through Sakusa’s face as he screams. He collapses against the beam, sinking to the floor. When he looks up at Sakusa, there’s the whisper of a smirk on his face. 

“You scream like a girl,” Sakusa comments.

“Oh shut up!” Atsumu yells back, throwing the hammer through Sakusa. It clatters loudly on the floor behind him. “Are ya okay?” He asks as he stands up.

  
“I’m dead.”

Atsumu stares at him balefully. “Ya know what, screw ya. Ya can protect yer damn self!”   
  


Sakusa is almost laughing as Atsumu storms past him to grab the hammer. “Is that what the hammer is for? Protecting me?”

Atsumu doesn’t dignify that with a response as he goes back towards the elevator, angrily thumbing the button for the first floor. The door shutting does little to stop Sakusa who just phases through it anyways. He tilts his head slightly, evaluating.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Fine,” Atsumu grumbles.

Sakusa nods, coming to stand beside Atsumu, leaning against the back of the elevator as it starts to rise. He follows Atsumu off the elevator, inviting himself to relax at the main desk with Atsumu until sunrise. 

Atsumu will never admit that he liked the company. 

  
  
  


Sitting on his bed, he stares at the phone in his hand. The number is dialed, all he has to do is hit call and say yes. That’s it. That’s all he has to do. 

He thinks of Amagasaki. He thinks of his brother and his friends. He thinks of this weird hotel and its weirder guests. 

The phone rings as he pulls it up to his ear. 

“Hey! Miya, make a decision yet?”

“I did,” Atsumu starts, “I’d love to join the team if ya’ll ‘ave me.” 

  
  
  


“I hope you guys enjoy your stay,” He says to the nice foreign couple with a small bow. They thank him and head off towards the elevators. Since the guest floors had finished being remodeled, the hotel had picked up quite a bit in business. Things were not crazy busy thankfully, but busy enough his few shifts in between practices and games went by quickly.

The ghosts were enjoying it as well, having a lot more interest in… pranking their guests of late. It’s technically Atsumu’s fault. He dared Bokuto to do it months ago to get back at a guest who had screamed at him over ice being cold. What took off from there though was not his fault though.

Meian blames the yokai so it all works out. 

Sakusa is in what should be Atsumu’s chair, the guests oblivious to his presence. He’s raptly watching the footage of Atsumu’s debut game on his laptop. 

It had gone perfectly. They absolutely crushed the team from Tokyo in 3 sets. It was so easy he wasn’t even sore the next day. Their next match won’t go that well according to his teammates but he wasn’t worried. 

He always had Osamu and Kita who had supported the move whole-heartedly. He had the ghosts who were now his biggest fans. He had a supportive boss in Meian and a place to stay even if it all went awry. 

His life in Osaka was weird but it was perfect. 

**Author's Note:**

> Always appreciate feedback! I might write more we'll see cause I love this AU.
> 
> I'm on tiktok under the same handle if you wanna say hi.


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